


SOHtober Stories 2019

by SantaManana



Category: Samurai of Hyuga (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cuisine and cooking, Drama, Drinking, Escape, Family Fluff, Fluff, Multi, Pining, SOHtober, Sleepovers, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, The ronin is constantly running from their problems, sometimes family is a bunch of misfits and a bunch of loveable idiots, that's why their legs are so jacked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-11-09 05:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SantaManana/pseuds/SantaManana
Summary: A collection of prompts made by the SoH Discord for October.  Relevant tags and characters will be added with new chapters until this is complete.Disclaimer:  All characters (except for OCs) and settings from Samurai of Hyuga belong to Devon Connell.  All the love for this series poured into this work is mostly my own (mixed with that of my wonderful friends).





	1. Week 1: First Encounters/Beginnings

She’s sprinting. Faster than she’s ever had to before. Sandals pounding down the dirt path, flying over tree roots and jagged rocks that seek to tangle up her feet, dashing along well-hidden trails that lead down this mountain.

A part of her still can't believe she did it. But the smell of blood clinging to her frame and _ Sensei _'s katana still by her side reminds her that she did: she stabbed Gensai in the back as he was meditating in the pale-grey light of dawn and fled before Jun could rouse from the drugged slumber she put him under. 

The adrenaline and the _ Jigoku Itto-Ryu _are rushing through her veins, melding together and breaking apart, firing off impulses so rapidly she can’t tell which is the part of her that wants to find the first living thing and slice it apart and which is the part that wants to keep running and never look back. She feels as if she’s going mad, like she can't decide between stopping and retching on the side of the road or throwing back her head and laugh maniacally because she is free, she is free—

She is _free_. 

The thought weighs heavily on her mind and yet she feels like a newly fledged bird that has plummeted from its nest and at the last second, spread its wings, clumsily flapped, and took off to the ever-blue sky. She feels like she’s eight years old again, clutching a tree on the precipice of a cliff at the end of the world, straining for an apple that’s centimeters from her fingertips. No more Gensai, no more Jun, no more orders and tears. 

Before this, her life had been measured in constants. The orphanage in Genfu: constant fear, constant crying, constant hunger. Gensai: constant criticism, constant training from before dawn to past dusk, constantly competing with Jun to see who could win the right to eat first. But now this? It’s like she’s looking at a blank piece of parchment paper, mesmerized by the pale-yellow expanse before it gets stained by merchants with their strange black squiggles. The strangest thing seems to have taken up residence in her chest, fluttering faster than her pounding heartbeat, making her feel buoyant and fragile and light-headed and exuberant all at once. It resonates within her heart so deeply that she aches and yearns for a name to call this feeling by. 

“Freedom, huh?” she asks herself. 

Freedom. She rolls around the word inside her mouth, tasting its weight, tasting its possibility. It weighs as heavy as a purse filled with solid gold _ ryo_, tastes as sweet as spring-water on a hot day, feels as dangerous as a bite from the reddish-brown _ mamushi _ vipers that liked to sun themselves on the rocks outside the dojo. She thinks to herself, _ What a funny word, but then again, nothing has felt normal since the day I decided to kill the old man. _

She won’t be held back anymore. She’ll grab her own lot in life with her own fire-hardened hands and glare at it with golden eyes, daring life itself to deny her. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for yet but she’ll find something better for herself outside of this place, in this cruel and beautiful world that seems to love tragedies, that stomps on those who try to crawl out of misery and squalor on their hands and knees.

In a rare moment of peace after a practice bout, Gensai told her and Jun that in the Golden Era of Samurai, there was a special name for those abandoned their duty to their lord. When a samurai forsook the school and master they dedicated their lives to and sought a new path for themselves, they were given a certain title—one that would mark them with awe, envy, and disgust. 

Now she’s one of them.

She’s a _ ronin_.

She’s beginning to learn what that means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @Tokiko220 and @Darappi for setting this year's SOHtober up!


	2. Week 2: Sake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsukiko and Fuu belong to @s-4-fira! Please check out her art on Tumblr, it's so great.

It’s not often that the whole gang could reunite. How odd is it was, to see Tsukiko’s and Fuu’s motley crew of friends, enemies-turned-friends, and kinda-enemies-kinda friends get larger and larger with each adventure. Eventually, they picked up so many companions that at the end of their quest, when everyone was saying their farewells, Fuu declared that even though their days of hunting demons and dastardly villains would be over, their new mission would be to keep in touch with everyone at least once a year. 

And certain members of the gang declared it equally important that when they gathered at someone’s house for their annual reunion, they should chat, eat, and get drunk, _ really _drunk while catching up with each other. 

And that’s the scene we find Tsukiko and Fuu in, the two of them slouched over a table, several sake bottles off to the side, scattered in disarray that matched the two drinkers’ messy states. Toshio and Momoko looked at each other and sighed. It seemed that their significant others would be the last thing they’d have to take care of for tonight. Everyone else had either retired earlier in the night (like Masashi and Ume-Ume) or were sprawled out all over the furniture or the floor (like Kohaku and Nishi), mumbling around their last cup of alcohol. 

They approached the table. It sounded like Fuu was attempting to praise Tsukiko but all that was coming out of his mouth was, “_Broooo_, you’re my _ brooo_. Boogie-woogie-woogie!” while Tsukiko absently nodded and allowed Fuu to continue poking her cheek and playing with her hair. Her eyes slowly slid over to watch Toshio and Momoko come before them and offered a small, muted “hello” in acknowledgment. 

“Fuu-san, it is now time to go to sleep. Our bed is waiting for us upstairs,” Toshio said sternly. 

“Do I have to? Do I have to?” Fuu complained. “Because I haven’t finished telling Tsukiko that she’s my bestest _ bestest _ friend in the whole world and we were gonna swim outsideandsingsongsand-and-and—,” Fuu’s voice raised in pitch and speed and Toshio knew that if he didn’t shut down his babble now, they’d be here all night, which would derail his goal of snuggling with Fuu in their shared futon before dawn came.

“Bed. Now,” Toshio said in a sterner, louder voice. But his eyes softened slightly at his boyfriend’s hurt pout and sad puppy eyes. Perhaps that was a bit harsher than warranted. He lightly patted Fuu’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss him in apology. 

But before Toshio’s lips could land on Fuu’s cheek, it was stopped by a hand slapping against his mouth. Toshio’s green eyes stared in shock at Fuu’s hazy brown eyes and his lopsided grin. Momoko couldn’t help but giggle at Toshio’s utterly confused expression. 

The ronin giggled. “Sorry, cuuuutiee. But I can’t kiss you! I’ve already got a boy-, boy-,” Fuu paused for a second before finding the word. “A boyfriend!!” he crowed. At Fuu’s volume, Hatch, who had passed out beneath the table, twitched in his sleep but then rolled over and continued his loud snores.

Toshio was stunned. His mouth opened and shut a few times like a gaping fish flopping on the docks. “It’s me,” he deadpanned. “I’m your boyfriend.”

Fuu looked flabbergasted. “No way!”  
  


The vein on Toshio’s forehead throbbed and his eyes narrowed. “Yes, I am.” _ Why did I fall in love with an idiot? _ Toshio asked himself yet again.

Fuu slapped his hands to his cheeks, all starry-eyed and in awe of Toshio. “You’re my boyfriend?!?!” he repeated. “But that can’t be! Toshio is so cool and awesome. He’s so smart and he laughs at my jokes. And wow, he’s so hot too—like you’re handsome too, but he’s so much hotter than anyone here.” At this point, the ronin latched onto Toshio, who fought not to let his nose crinkle in disgust as the bitter, acrid scent of sake washed over him. Fuu continued excitedly: “My Toshio is so cuuuute. When he thinks really hard, he gets this super-focused look in his eyes and a crinkle in his forehead that makes me want to kiiiiiss iiiiiiit and—,” Fuu leaned in very close to Toshio and whispered something in his ear. If Toshio’s cheeks weren’t red before, they were now—two bright scarlet orbs of embarrassment that shone on his cheeks. 

“A-ah, that’s enough now Fuu! It’s time to go.” Toshio coughed while trying not to stare back into Fuu’s half-lidded eyes.

Momoko chuckled at her silly friend as he sang Toshio’s praises while remaining utterly oblivious to who he was talking to. She passed a small medicinal packet to Toshio, who pocketed it and returned his arm to wrap around Fuu’s waist. “Make sure he takes it in the morning with plenty of water. And have breakfast ready for him—something as simple as eggs and rice will do well to soak up any remaining alcohol in his body.”

“Thank you, Momoko-san. I wish a good night to the two of you as well.” And Toshio began tugging Fuu away to sleep. 

Momoko returned her attention back to Tsukiko, who gazed back at her placidly. “My dear,” she began gently. “Are you ready to go to bed now?” 

Tsukiko shook her head slowly. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

Momoko decided to humor her, partly curious as to know Tsukiko’s “someone” and partly because it wasn’t too often she got to see this child-like side of her girlfriend, which only seemed to emerge whenever Tsukiko drank. 

“And who is that someone?” she asked.

“My Momoko-chan,” Tsukiko answered. “I can’t sleep without her.” Momoko felt her heart clench. How could this stiff and stoic woman say the most adorable things out of nowhere? Then, Tsukiko began tearing up, to Momoko’s surprise. 

“Do you know where she is?” Tsukiko looked like a little lost lamb, sadly bleating for its herd. _ Or an Akita Inu puppy whining for its owner_, Momoko mused to herself. 

Fat tears began to roll down Tsukiko’s cheeks and she began hiccuping. Affection filled Momoko’s chest and smothered her heart under a tidal wave of love. “I’m right here, my darling,” Momoko soothed. She gave in to the urge and went to plant a kiss on Tsukiko’s forehead. 

“Noooo,” Tsukiko whined as she clumsily tried to push away Momoko. “I have a girlfriend already... I miss her lots...”

Momoko sighed in fond exasperation. Time for a more subtle approach then. 

“Tsukiko-chan.” Secretly, she marveled at how the endearment in her voice easily infused with the name, as if it was always meant to be there, a puzzle piece sliding into perfect place with its counterpart. “I believe that Momoko is in your room. She needs your help to go to sleep as well.” 

The chair screeched back in protest as Tsukiko suddenly stood up. “Understood,” she said solemnly. “I’m going to help her now.” And she tottered down the hall to their room. Momoko laughed under her breath and hurried to catch up to Tsukiko and steady her stumbling steps, but not before grabbing a jug of water and a cup.

In their room, Momoko forced Tsukiko to down several gulps of water before helping her change into sleepwear—though it was a bit difficult. Tsukiko, happy to have “found” Momoko, kept wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, kept nuzzling her face into the crook of her neck, kept running her hand through the dark curtain of Momoko’s hair and staring in dazed fascination at how the black strands slipped easily through her fingers like dark liquid. 

“I found you. You’re safe now,” Tsukiko kept murmuring. _ Stay, please. _ _ I’ll always keep you safe_. She remembered how afraid she was to let Momoko go back to Jijinto, back to a brewing revolution with no one to watch her back. The thought of her alone and vulnerable in the midst of a city riot had been a constant nail hammered in the back of Tsukiko’s mind while she was on the Baron’s island estate;a nail that pricked her with loneliness and made her ache with worry. Her hands curled more around Momoko's hips.

But it wasn’t as if Momoko was much better at keeping her hands to herself. As she adjusted the kimono on Tsukiko and tightened the _obi _ around her waist, her hands lingered around the scars on the ronin’s body. Harsh ones: the tissue still jagged and bumpy after years of healing. Small ones: white tick marks recording every battle Tsukiko had ever been in. She traced them so tenderly that Tsukiko could no longer stand it and swooped in for a long and deep kiss, a kiss that left them both breathless and dizzy with want and drowsiness.

They slipped under the covers of the futon together and shifted so that Tsukiko was spooning Momoko from behind. She whispered something into her hair. It could have been a “good night” or an “I love you” but Momoko already drifted to sleep, wrapped in the cocoon of her lover’s arms. 

And upstairs, Fuu snored away happily, an arm slung over Toshio’s midriff as he dreamed of a good dream of a new day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Hey s4fira, if Tsukiko is romancing Momoko, is Fuu romancing anyone else?  
S4fira: Fuu is romancing Toshio!  
Me:  
Me: OH LOL, THE TWO SMARTEST PARTY MEMBERS ARE IN LOVE WITH THE DUMBEST RONINS.  
S4fira: OH MY GOD IT REALLY BE LIKE THAT.


	3. Week 2: Food of Hyuga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to @SickleWillow (#1 Toshio lover), who graciously allowed me to use her Ronin in this fic!

Heavenly scents filled the small home in Tonogasha. Potatoes, fresh salmon, ginger roots, carrots, onions, and more ingredients were spread around the floor as three people chopped, peeled, mixed, and grated.

[“No, no, I taught you better than that Yori! Make sure you clean off all those radishes! Toshio worked hard to get those good ones, unlike the lazy man you married!”] scolded the old woman in a distinct dialect of the Kondo people. If guards were patrolling outside, they would surely imprison the home’s inhabitants for daring to speak something other than the domineering Hyugan tongue. 

[‘Yes mother, but I could never work as well as you do.”]

Yori simply smiled, used to her mother’s hovering and complaints about her spouse. She continued to peel the radish, the speckled skin slipping down to the floor in a spiral. The old woman squinted suspiciously at her daughter before her wrinkled face stretched into a gentle smile. Ume-ume’s hands, gnarled and aged as they were, continued to quickly mold potato, egg, and flour into perfectly round balls while she watched the progress of peeling. 

Toshio called out from where he was tending the fire in the charcoal pit in the middle of the house. 

[“The water is boiling now, Madam. I’ll be adding in the sliced salmon and vegetables now.”] he reported. 

[“Excellent, Toshio. Let it simmer for a bit, then add the leeks. We’ll have a real meal of the _ Wasure-Rareta _ ready for your friends in no time.”] Ume-Ume sighed. [“I thought I’d never see the day... By the spirits, how long has it been since _ Hyugans _ were interested in sharing a meal with us?] 

[“Since the Divine Salmon Spirit dove off the edge of the world and the Great Bear God entered his long hibernation and they left their people to fend for themselves when the Hyugans found our homeland and forced their way in.”] Hiroyuki continued playing with his baby as he recited the sorrowful legends that had been circulating amongst the _ Wasure Rareta, _ ever since they were driven from their homes generations ago. 

[“None of that, you rascal! Toshio’s friends might be Hyugans but they’ve shown us more kindness in this month than the whole country has shown our people for years! And we _Wasure Rareta_ may be a poor people now but we have always welcomed guests to our homes and fires—or did living in this city addle your mind even more?”]

[“Forgive me, mother. What my mind wants to say, my tongue does not well convey.”] Hiroyuki knew when to retreat from a losing battle—and when it came to Ume-Ume, no one could win. 

Fortunately, Yori covered his escape. [“Husband, I think I know what you mean. For us to hide away who we are just to survive, for us to bring out our customs and cuisine after so long, why it feels so strange! Like a dream. It feels as if...”]

[“As if a bird is learning to fly again after its wings have been clipped,”] Toshio finished quietly. And everyone nodded along to the truth in his words.

There was a knock at the door and Toshio’s heart quickened as he recognized the voice. “Yoo-hoo! One Akane-san and one Masashi-kun reporting for dinner duty?”

Hiroyuki rose to open the door and bowed to the pair while balancing his baby in his arms. He switched smoothly to his second language: “Welcome, friends. But, forgive me if I’m wrong, were there not four of you?”

“Sorry, it’s just me and the kid for this meal. We left Hatch and Momoko back at Basho’s house. Hatch said he wanted some ‘alone time with the doctor,’" Akane quoted as she came in. “Guess he’s still not given up on wooing her.”

Masashi huffed and shot a glare at Akane, “Well, let us hope that this chance to have an uninterrupted conversation and quality time together will spark _ something _ between them, lest we resort to barbaric means like _ last time _.”

Akane sighed, a sure sign to Toshio that she didn’t want to get back into the argument they had been having since that first disastrous date. Sometimes he couldn’t believe the ronin’s ideas himself. He knew they should have used the aphrodisiac. He learned in his service to Emperor Satsuma that far simpler methods always led to more guaranteed results. 

“Akane-sama, Masashi-kun. We are honored to share this meal with you. I apologize but it’ll be a few more minutes before we have everything at the table so please make yourselves comfortable while you wait.” Akane smiled at Toshio for the smooth subject change, and that strange happiness fluttered in his chest again when he saw the curve of her lips.

“Dinner smells wonderful. My compliments to all you talented cooks here. Oh, Hiroyuki, a little something to thank your family for feeding us.”

“Dyed threads from the central market! And _ I _ bargained it down from four ryō a bundle to three!” Masashi boasted. 

Hiroyuki bowed again. “You have my thanks. This will be perfect for weaving new clothes for the winter. Would you like to hold our child as I put these away?” Akane showed visible delight in her eyes as she swapped her gift for Hiroyuki’s. She and Masashi continued to coo over how cute and fat the baby was until Ume-Ume announced dinner was ready.

Everyone sat around the low table Hiroyuki carved himself, greatly anticipating the meal. Though the dishes were standard fare for the four Kondos, judging by the way Akane drooled and Masashi stared in fascination, it was a feast fit for the great banquet halls of the Imperial Palace. Toshio sat by his traveling companions, pointing and naming what was laid out before them. 

“This is _ cep-ohaw_, salmon stew, but _ohaw _ can be made with many other things as well. That is _ imo-sito_, baked potato dumplings. _ Kampota-rataskep_, mixed and braised vegetables. It goes quite well with rice. I’ve also added pumpkin to it, to add texture and to temper the savoriness with a bit of sweetness.” 

Yori piped up, “And if we were still in our homeland, you’d also have it with _ shikerebe_, berries from the Amur cork tree. Our cuisine is a bit more simple to the palate than typical Hyugan cuisine but we believe that cooking should honor the natural flavors found in each ingredient.”

Akane took a bite and immediately widened her eyes. And opened her mouth to take another bite. And another. Masashi looked on in embarrassed disgust as she continued shoveling food down. Ume-Ume guffawed in pride as the ronin quickly devoured all that was in her bowl and reached for seconds. 

“Baka! How many times have I asked you to cease this filthy habit of yours! Gratitude to our hosts does not mean eating like a wild animal in front of them!” Masashi swatted Akane’s arm for her to stop but to no avail. He turned back to the others. “I apologize for her behavior. Ume-ume-san, Hiroyuki-san, Yori-san, Toshio-san, thank you for allowing us to learn more about the Kondo culture. The food is really amazing! I once read somewhere that there is a term in your language to describe something like this. Is ‘_hinna _’ the correct word?” Toshio nodded and Masashi puffed up in satisfaction.

“Yeah, this food is nothing like I’ve tasted before. It’s really _ hii-na _!” Yori giggled at Akane’s pronunciation but the ronin merely grinned in friendly ease.

It was then that Toshio noticed something on Akane’s face. Her dark hair swung about her face, concealing it for moments at a time as she animatedly chatted with everyone else, but Toshio finally pinpointed the problem. 

“Akane-sama, please, if could you look over here...” She turned at her name and Toshio raised a napkin and dabbed away a few splotches of stew from the corner of Akane’s mouth. He marveled to himself. Even after messily eating, the woman was still so...

_ Beautiful_, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, unbidden. 

Toshio blinked rapidly as his movements stilled. 

Meanwhile, Akane was watching him. Her cheeks reddened a bit but she managed to recover with a small smirk. “Toshio, thank you. What a gentleman you are,” she complimented slyly. “So thoughtful of you to look after me.”

He snapped back his hand as if he had been burned and gave a small nod, hoping the warmth he felt in his chest did not travel up to his face. He picked his bowl of soup again so he wouldn’t have to stare at her face. “It is no trouble, to look after the well-being of the Sword that Cuts the Heavens.” He winced inwardly as he saw how Akane deflated a little upon him using her title. But that surely couldn’t be disappointment from her. Right? 

He added dryly, “Though it seems I must also look after your table manners as well.”

Akane perked up again at the small jibe. “Why, was that a joke? Was that humor rather than actual concern? Well, I’ll take that,” she said quickly when seeing the horror in Toshio’s eyes. And like that, they slid into an easy banter that cut into the tension between them moments before. 

Which was advantageous because both of them forgot they were still eating with everyone else.

“Haha! Look at dhose dwo bein’ sweet! Reminds me of my own husband! Why, he would give dhis old lady the best pieces of meat or the biggest portion of rice whenever we were out and about havin’ our meals toge-dher. I tell ya, Akane, dhis one will treat you right!” Ume-Ume chortled. Yori protested at her mother’s nosiness. 

“Hmph! Well, some of us would like to finish eating rather than be an audience to you two!” Masashi pouted.

Akane turned to the boy. “You’re right Masa, you gotta keep eating—otherwise, how else are you going grow taller without your veggies?” And she took the chance to dump some more _ kampota-rataskep _into his rice bowl. Immediately, Masashi started sputtering and ranting about the utter disrespect of his bodyguard until Toshio silently passed over some of the candied plums he saved in his pockets for such occasions. 

The warmth and laughter only grew as the night darkened outside the small home. The meal and conversations lasted a while longer but sadly, Akane, Masashi, and Toshio had to depart to prepare for another day of grueling shogi matches. As they waved good-bye to Ume-Ume and her family and began the walk back to Basho’s, Toshio felt slightly melancholic. He knew it wasn’t possible, but a small part of him wished for more days like this. Days that he didn’t have to lighten his skin and cover his mouth whenever he was out in public, days that Yori and Hiroyuki could laugh freely in their own language without fear of being reported, days that Ume-ume could cradle her grandchild while relaxing in a comfortable, sturdy house instead of a cramped, disheveled space that was shoved into the unlucky side of the town. Days that they could eat and talk side-by-side like this in peace, not as Hyugan and Kondo, but as equals. 

And if there was a smaller part of him that wished for a redo of earlier, when his fingers lingered by Akane’s face—not to wipe away a stain but to trace her lips for something else—well, no one would know. He would make sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone out there is quite knowledgeable of Ainu culture or is of Ainu descent, I do apologize if there are any mistakes with how I depicted the folklore and cuisine.
> 
> But please, check out Ainu foods! 
> 
> Recipe for cep-ohaw (in Japanese but I used Google Translate): https://cookpad.com/recipe/2179865
> 
> The other Ainu dishes mentioned: https://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2014/07/08/food/ainu-restaurant-offers-delicious-cultural-excursion/
> 
> Ainu history/legends: http://www.ainu-museum.or.jp/en/study/eng02.html


	4. Week 2: Shogi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryoko is the ronin of Sab (@vattena). Go check out her great SoH art and memes as well!

_ Clack._ Masashi set down the knight tile down onto the shogi board, away from the line of fire from Toshio's bishop.

"Incorrect." Toshio pointed to the board, tapping the empty spot the knight has previously occupied. "Though you have saved your knight, you have made a vulnerable opening. Now my rook can move here," he slid the piece over to the left, "and threaten this area. My pieces will now be able to control this part of the board and this will put you at a disadvantage later in 5 moves. Again."

"I--Understood," Masashi shifted the knight back and studied the board even harder, eyes furrowed and teeth gnawing at his lip.

"Remember. It is inevitable in shogi and in war for sacrifices to be made. If the king falls, what are his soldiers without him?" Toshio watched Masashi tense up at his words, biting his lip even harder.

"But..." Masashi began hesitantly, "why should one piece have to do all the work? Why should one piece have to venture out and face all this danger? What if...it's too much for the piece?" And Toshio knew that the boy wasn't talking about shogi anymore.

He was talking about Ryoko.

"You're worried for her, I know," the ninja stated simply. Masashi instantly started sputtering angrily, too flustered to even complete his sentences. Toshio picked up a lance piece from his captures, left off to the side of the board. A lance could only move forward in shogi, never backtracking or diverging to the sides. This straightforwardness often put it in danger; however, a lance was still a powerful weapon. If it overcame all odds and obstacles and reached the other end of the board, it could promote and emerge as the strongest of all pieces.

Toshio thought of Ryoko as well. How she charged through her enemies like a battering ram, her face as unmovable as stone but her eyes glinting with a fierce fire. How she would wield her sword like an avenging warrior god out of Hyuga's myths in one moment and turn to give Masashi a gentle pat on the back in the next.

He thought of her laying on the floor of the dojo, bleeding out, and his heart clenched unexpectedly. All that fire and energy and brutality just... snuffed out, a candle doused in the rain.

_ Stop. She's the Sword the Cuts the Heavens. She's a weapon that carries out the will of Emperor Satsuma,_ Toshio firmly reminded himself. _And you are just the whetstone that will sharpen her._ But then his heart began to throb painfully even more.

"Toshio?" And the ninja blinked upon hearing his name, instantly snapping back into focus.

"Gomen, Masashi-kun," he apologized to the boy's wary face. He held up the lance piece for Masashi to see. "Though it may seem like that piece is by itself, remember, it is not alone in the fight." Toshio gestured to the other pieces in front of him, the rest of his wooden army.

"The piece has comrades and the guidance of its commander to keep it from unnecessary danger. If nothing else, remember this."

Masashi nodded slowly. Then looked up with determination shining in his eyes.

"Arigato, Toshio-san. I think I know what to do now."


	5. Week 3: Black Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shadow of the Colossus AU
> 
> Akane and Kenji are my own ronins.

Kenji doesn’t know the protocol for calling on an ancient god—that was more of Masami’s expertise as one of the village’s senior _ shugenjas_, the magic wielders who could connect to the spirit realm and commune with its inhabitants. The old legends were super vague on instructions: just travel east until you couldn’t anymore, then two more days to reach the Forbidden Lands; cross the Bridge of Sorrows until you reached the Temple of Ancients; boom, wake up a god. The legends didn’t go any further, so Kenji just wings it and also lights the candles surrounding the stone altar in the back. He waits for the black smoke to rise up midway to the ceiling before he unsheathes the sword and starts calling out names of power, trying to enunciate them exactly the way Masami did whenever she had to perform the annual Rite of Seals for the village.

Then, something responds.

“**Who Is It... That Calls Us... From Our Slumber?” ** The multitude of voices speaks in a jumbled, echoey collective. It is neither male nor female, but the deepest instinct inside Kenji knows that this being is _ very _ old, _ very _ powerful, and _ very _ready to strike him down if he doesn’t explain right now why he marched into its resting place and started waving a mystical sword around, yelling for "the Captive God" and “Dormin the Sky-Render” to wake up.

“Hi, Kenji here. Grandson of the grandson of Nakamura the Brilliant and all that. I’ve also got this ‘Sword that Cuts the Heavens’ that’s supposed to call upon you. Anyways, I’m here because I want you to help me save this girl,” Kenji answers back.

“**Who?**” 

“Masami. She was sacrificed for a fate she didn’t deserve, to ‘save Hyuga’ from ‘unimaginable doom and destruction.’” Kenji snarls sarcastically and has to stop himself from spitting on the floor to show exactly what he thinks of Satsuma’s prophecy. He continues, “Her spirit was separated from her body but I grabbed her before they could continue the ritual. 'S not right to happen to her. So now I’m here because I heard you can do the impossible.”

He looks over to the stone altar he had gently laid Masami’s small body upon; she was still clothed in those ceremonial white robes. If one could ignore the barely audible rattling breaths and the ice-cold, ghostly pale skin, he could swear it was like she was just sleeping. 

Kenji looks back and narrows his eyes at whatever’s talking to him from up high. “So, _ Dorma _ or _ Dormin-kami_, or whatever fucking kind of god you are, how about you do your magic jumbo shit and tell me how to get her soul back?”

The voices boom and roll: like thunder, like earthquakes, like the powerful echo of Satsuma’s voice whenever the Guardian Lion God seized control of him in the throes of visions. “**It Is Not That Simple... Our Powers... Have Wasted Away... Since We Were Sealed Here... Many Of Your Human Lifetimes Ago... You Must Free... The Fragments Of Our Power... From The Shadowed Colossi... Only When... We Are At Our Fullest... Can We Bring Back The Soul... Of The One You So Care For...**”

Those voices then tell him of six massive guardians scattered across this vast land, represented by the mighty stone statues lining the path leading up to the altar. Every time one was slain, its corresponding statue would shatter and release some of Dormin’s power in the form of black smoke. Kenji puzzles over some of the descriptions that the voice(s) listed off. A spirit causing mudslides and quakes? He can probably find it in the mountain range he saw in the distance while crossing the bridge to the temple. A spirit inhabiting the bones of an ancient general? Shouldn’t be too hard to find a giant walking skeleton. And maybe that spirit of boats and salt is hidden at the bottom of some lake. But a spirit of greed and a spirit of manipulation and illusions? A spirit still yet pure? Where the hell is he supposed to find those? A small part of him wishes Akane or Toshio were here to help him solve this riddle—they were always the smarter ones—but he crushes that thought as quickly as it forms. Kenji knows he couldn’t drag anyone else into this taboo the moment he swiped the legendary sword from the village’s shrine. 

“Hunting, huh?” Kenji muses as he swings himself up onto his horse and draws out the sword, holding it high above his head for the metal to catch the sunlight as Dormin instructed. He watches the beam of magic shoot forward from the blade and into the distance, smiling when he sees a pillar of light erupt in response. “Well, that won’t be too bad, I’m pretty good at stabbing, hacking, and making sure things stay down.”

“_I__kuzo, Kiso_-_chan! _” And with that, they’re charging forward to kill the first guardian. 

* * *

The smoke from their first target doesn’t feel _ that _ horrible, just sears down his throat and into his lungs like he’s just inhaled burning coals, just leaves him reeling and dizzy as if he took one of Hatch’s famous haymakers to the temple. But by the time he watches the black smoke erupt from the fourth guardian’s corpse and rush into his nose and mouth yet again, he’s starting to _ really _hate it. His chest feels like someone’s ripping open his rib cage, his sore arms are pulsing with new black veins, and his head is pounding worse than an all-night drinking sesh with his friends and barrels of Ume-Ume’s “special” brew. He’s also trying to ignore the solid bump that’s starting to sprout from his head.

“Ack, _ Kami_,” he curses God as he hacks up something thick and dark, leans over to the side to spit the sludge from his mouth as he rides on. The sleeve he wipes his mouth on is already streaked with black and blood and other nasty things he can’t think about right now. “No wonder why Momoko never let me try smoking,” Kenji mumbles as he reminisces about all the times the village doctor lectured Jun whenever she caught the guardsman on a break with his ivory pipe and tobacco satchel.

_ Two more to go _ is the only thought that overrides all the aches, pains, and fears in his mind. He urges Kiso to ride faster to the next pillar of light, using the shine emanating from the Sword that Cuts the Heavens to keep them on course. He thinks, _ Just hold on Masami _ , _ I’m almost done. Then I’ll wake you up, you can scream “ _ baka” at me _ all you want and I’ll laugh like before. You can finally give me that gift you promised me for the Rite of the Silver Moon_.

Kenji doesn’t know how he made back to the Temple after killing the last guardian (he thought for sure he wouldn’t be able to survive when the guardian started crumbling and Kenji hung onto the sword still embedded in the giant’s weak point on its head as they started falling down, down, down). He sobs when he sees Kiso, limping but still alive after she bucked him off to save him from the fifth demon’s jaws that had ambushed them. He completely ignores the sonorous voices of Dormin, the rumbling delight evident in the chorus as It thanks him for what he’s done. He just keeps resting against Kiso and weeping into her mane, relieved that he didn’t lose his only other companion on this crazy, stupid quest. 

When he looks up at the sound of horse hooves and rustling armor, there’s a group wearing the colors of his old village, maneuvering around the shattered blocks of stone from fallen titans to approach him at the base of the altar’s steps. Kenji laughs upon seeing the faces of his friends, now grimly waiting to kill him. There’s Vice-Captain Kohaku (well, probably "Captain" now that Kenji fucking _ ran _ from his village and effectively resigned from his position), looking at him with those same stern eyes and disappointed frown on her face. There’s Hatch—he looks good with that new armor but judging by the way he squirms and shifts atop his horse, Kenji knows the brawler is itching to trade the heavy lacquer plate for the light karate _ gi _ he favors. Toshio is off to the side, looking at him with almost pity in his green eyes, but Kenji knows that he wouldn’t hesitate to nail him with a few of his steel shuriken and rifle bullets. And there, at the front, the Demon Slayer herself—Kenji begins to bellow with laughter even harder when he sees that it’s his best friend, Akane, leading the group. 

He wipes away the tears, flings his arms wide open, and grins with that old Kenji flair for dramatics. “Hey! Nice of you guys to join me at this party, but I don’t recall sending out invitations!” Judging from Kohaku’s and Hatch’s horrified expressions (Akane’s and Toshio’s faces remain impassive as per usual), he must make for quite the sight: torn clothing, bloody and banged up body, arms pitch-black up to the shoulders, a full bone-horn protruding from his forehead, and black smoke swirling around him like some sort of evil aura. 

“Kenji.”

At that single word, his smile drops and he watches Akane dismount and walk forward.

“You know what happens now. You broke the rules,” she says.

“Funny, I thought you of all people would have hated being tied down by rules, especially when they hurt people you love.”

“Satsuma threatened to go after Momoko. I didn’t have a choice.” Oh, Akane, always straight to the point, especially when it comes to her wife. Kenji both fumes with wrath and aches with understanding at her words. The pulsing in his arms speeds up and the haze in his mind gets worse as he wants to strike out and beat that calm determination off her face.

Kenji barks out a bitter laugh. “Well, guess who didn’t have a choice either! Oh wait, Masami _wants_ her soul trapped in the spirit realm while her body rots!” _Can’t they see?_ He thinks, _That_ _this is what Satsuma and his god wanted? To convince everyone that her sacrifice was the “only” way to save Hyuga?_

Akane stops a couple of feet away from him, warily watching the sword by his side, calculating as always what her foe will do next. “She _ did _want this. You were supposed to respect her choice.”

“_I was supposed to protect her! _ ” he roars. (He doesn’t want to remember the tight-lipped resignation on Masami’s face when Satsuma first marked her for damnation; he doesn’t want to recall the fiery argument they had the night before the ceremony.) “_That’s _ the duty of the Captain.” He looks over at Kohaku, who has stayed oddly silent this whole exchange, and shoots her a lopsided smirk. “Sorry, Kohaku. I guess that makes me a failure, huh? I hope that you can do better than me now that I’m gone.”

Kohaku bows her head and murmurs, “I will never be like you.” At the same time, Hatch cries out one last useless request for Kenji to come back with them with Masami, tears streaming down his face. Toshio continues to look at him with indescribable emotions swirling in his dark green eyes. Honestly, why didn't the ninja take the shot? Kenji knows he made for such an open target when trying not to break down completely in Kiso’s presence. Perhaps Akane held Toshio back. He’s grateful if she did.

It means she remembers that pact she made with him years ago: when they were young, wild, and oh-so-afraid of their capacity to kill. Of being alone at the end of the slaughter.

Kenji turns back at Akane. Upon his attention, she draws her katana and shifts into _ Gedan_, a basic low stance favored by her Alligator Style for its powerful counter-attacks. Instinctively, he shifts into _ Jōdan_, an aggressive, overhead stance of the Firefly Style. They wait. It’s an old routine, as familiar as a lullaby to a child. He’ll swing downward first, she’ll sidestep and aim a slash to his arm, he’ll pivot to block her sword and force her back with a shove, she’ll leap back to analyze him for openings but he’ll press forward with wild swings that will break her focus and force her to defend. They’ll switch off. He knows he’s always been stronger and more resilient, but she’s more agile and has the sharpest instincts for finding weak points. They’ve always been equally matched, a constant push-and-pull that has never known an end.

But this isn’t a training duel in the village fields and this isn’t a battlefield where they stand back-to-back, cutting down whichever enemies foolishly rush them. Now Kenji and Akane face each other to witness which is stronger: their promises to their loved ones or their promises to each other. Perhaps this was inevitable, for loyalty and bonds built over years to gradually crumble away to dust with each clash of their swords. 

What a mess. 

Kenji sighs. It’s not a dead man’s sigh of regret when the body releases its last gasp for forgiveness and peace. No, it’s a sigh of tired endurance, of indomitable will; a breath loosed into the air before it rises and condenses into storm clouds that break open and unleash heaven’s wrath. He smiles. “I’m guessing it makes sense that they brought _ you _out to kill one last demon, but you better be prepared for the fight of your life! I won’t go down without giving it my all!”

Akane simply nods. “Goodbye, old friend.”

Kenji replies to her unspoken words, “I’m sorry too.” 

And he thinks, _ And I’m sorry, Masami. Guess you’ll have to wait a little longer to give me your gift. I’m sure it’s beautiful, whatever it is. _

And so, what else can he do but to charge forward?


	6. Week 4: Angst

It’s morning but he’s not next to you again. 

But it’s not as though the nights are better.

You stay there for a moment, watching the dust motes and the first beams of sunlight settle on the wooden floor to your right, where there should be someone else but there isn’t. You need to get up to clean and train but you’re so tired. So hollow. Your mind is hazy like fog, your eyes are seared with gold, your limbs feel like they’re wrapped with iron chains as you struggle to get up. Your mind is willing but your flesh is weak, determined to shackle you down to the floor, to trap you in this god-damned horrible truth: that he’s not next to you and you don’t know what to do. You haven’t slept all night and many more before than that. 

It has been three years since your whole world collapsed—when you woke up to find the boy you loved above all else gone, your beloved sensei face-down in a pool of his own blood, yourself left behind as the only one in this mountain dojo. Now you are the lone guardian to this abandoned temple, a servant hopefully attending to the ghost of a god that will never come back. Who will eat the offerings you put on the altar of the dinner table? Who will walk the cypress floors and tatami mats you diligently polish and sweep? Who will smell the incense smoke from your pipe and complain about the stench of tobacco?

Who will listen when you pray for Love to reappear before you?

You feel as if you should be used to loss by now, but seeing the empty space next to you instead of rumpled futon sheets and a familiar body languidly relaxing in it—you admit it hurts you more than you could ever have thought. You never knew heartbreak could be like this: burning you over and over like the iron rods Sensei left in the fire until they glowed red like the sun. Then it was worse when the fire went out because then you felt as meaningless as shit, as senseless as stone. So cold without his warmth. Without his arms around you to keep the shadows of the Uesugi name and the past away. 

So empty. 

_ Worthless. _

In the end, everyone you have ever loved has left you. 

The ringing in your ears taunt you: _b__roken boy, broken boy, _ it whispers lovingly in the same way he told you he needed you, for you to worship his body in blood and heat when you would join together as one under the half-lidded gaze of the moon. 

You beg yourself not to say it but habit betrays you and you croak out his name. It tastes like bitter embers, coating the roof of your mouth with ashes and searing your tongue. Even saying it feels like mumbling around broken glass, the very sound of it cutting your mind to shreds. You don’t want to think of him but he’s in everything you see. The untouched left side of the dojo, the empty well he once tipped you in as revenge for blaming him for a mishap with the storage room, the swirls in the smoke of the pipe you puff nightly. 

Does loneliness devour all the light in the world? You think so. It’s the only reason why you think the world has looked gray ever since he left. Words are not enough to capture what you’re feeling, cannot hope to hold the grief in you any more than hands can hope to hold an ocean. What you’re feeling in your empty chest is enough to overflow the largest cup, the bitter grudge sloshing over the edge and running down in dark tears. So when it’s too much, when even the mind-numbing stasis of the _ Jigoku Itto-Ryu _ shatters under the mere memory of how he said your name, you surrender and howl at the moon every night, letting out a death wail to echo in the darkness without an answer.

If he were here, would you ask him questions? Demand why he abandoned you? Or would you move straight to hurting him and making love to him? The acts are one and the same: make him take your hate, your love, your shriveled blackened heart. Look into his eyes once more and see his half of your soul reflected back.

“It is now time to go to the garden Jun,” you command yourself. You will go mad if you stay inside here any longer. At least you can take care of the only other living things in this place better than you take care of yourself. 

You walk outside. The trees seem to be doing fine, perhaps you can add another to their number. You start digging a hole, a home for the apple seed you will place in it. Each strike of the shovel reminds you of tearing flesh apart with a sword. You remember his face. The scars on his body inflicted by morning’s training and palmed in night’s lovemaking. His stupid smile, his scent. His laugh. You start digging harder.

You don’t realize that you’ve kept working without stopping until your hands slip on the shovel handle because they are slick with blood. The blisters have opened again. And you’re standing in a pit large enough to bury yourself. You raise your head up to the sky, where the purples and pinks of the sunset have started to bleed away to deep dark blue. You drop your shovel and your head so you can start crying. Above you, three stars in a row blaze brightly, too beautiful and far away to know of the ugliness down here. How insignificant you must seem to them, as tiny and lonely as a single grain of sand drifting in an ocean of bleakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do tragedies exist?  
Because you are full of rage.  
Why are you full of rage?  
Because you are full of grief.
> 
> -Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripedes


	7. Week 4: Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though the ronin in here was previously named Nino (who belongs to @yellowcreamy), I changed it to be a bit more inclusive of any of your Junk-mancing ronins. I hope you enjoy this fic too.

Their baby’s cry came shortly after 2 am. Jun slowly opened his eyes as the cries of his daughter, reached his ears. At his side, he could already feel his spouse raising their head off his chest and extracting their octopus grip from his side to attend to the baby.

He raised the hand that wasn’t currently tangled with theirs to lightly nudge their head. “Shh, go back to sleep, my love. I can do it.” But still, they rose up. Jun rolled his eyes as he sat up with them.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t sleeping that much anyways. I’ll just go check on her real quick.” But before they could pull away the covers of the futon, Jun lightly grabbed their chin and kissed them. 

“Wha—? Mmm,” They resisted at first, even lightly smacking at Jun’s arm, but when Jun touched a certain part of their neck (a weak spot he found when they were young and fumbling teenagers, guided only by experimentation and lust), they relaxed into the kiss and became more pliant. Jun took advantage and used his prosthetic hand to nudge at their shoulder, guiding their body down as he deepened the kiss and pressed them down onto the bedding.

He released them and hovered above, a grin finding its way on his face as he stared amusedly at the blush flaming their cheeks and their puffed up, angry expression. 

They pouted. “You’re so mean. You cheated.”

“And you’re staying right here and getting some more sleep.” Jun poked their cheek semi-sternly, then pecked them on the lips for good measure, before getting out of their futon.

“Make sure to wipe her down thoroughly if you need to change her diaper,” they called out before flopping down onto the futon and grabbing Jun’s pillow to bury their face in. Jun nodded at them before he crossed to the other end of the room where the cradle was. 

Upon seeing her father, the baby’s squalor quieted down. She instead gurgled happily and reached out to Jun with chubby hands, her fist only large enough to grasp the finger he held out to her. Jun picked her up and immediately began cradling her, tucking in the blanket that his partner had sewn themself to make sure his most precious treasure was warm. 

“My starlight. My little Hikari. Were you lonely? Did you want your papa?”

Hikari blinked up at him, her eyes a mirror to his beloved's while the unruly baby fluff on her head matched Jun’s mane. As he stared at this little bundle of baby fat and gurgling noises, this combination of him and the love of his life, his heart swelled further than he thought possible.

“Papa’s here. Papa will always be here for you.”


	8. Week 5: Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ronin pajama party and special guest stars from the Discord, featuring:
> 
> Nino (@yellowcreamy) - "I hate my job but I love the money."  
Nao (@jabberwockprince) - "CAN I GET A 'HELL YEAH'??"  
Rin (@Flaine1996) - "I'll break into your place and raid your fridge at 3am."  
Sairai (@snootfest-fall-173) - "...." *pats your head*  
Hanako (@DragonLadyNatz) - "Guys... please... I need the sleep."  
Kenji - "Oh? Oh. It's not that kind of sleeping over, my bad."

On any other year, Nino loved Halloween. She loved the warm candlelight from carved pumpkins, she loved the bags of candy that overflowed from every storefront, she loved the crowds of families and children going door to door with a simple command of “trick or treat!” But above all, she loved the costumes: loved, loved, _ loved _ to design and sew elaborate outfits that allowed her to mask her real self and walk about town as someone from another era or another world. This year, she had lovingly crafted a mummy costume, excited for the opinions of the neighborhood kids on her costume when she would appear before them, all bandaged and bloody and ready to give them treats. Yes, Nino really did love Halloween.

Until she got called in for work. 

Working as a waitress at The Canary wasn’t... too terrible. It paid well enough that Nino stayed at the nightclub for about two years now. Most days, Nino grit her teeth, then stretched her mouth into a placid, bland, customer service smile as she wore the skimpy waitress uniform and served cocktails and beers. She would remind herself of the sizeable paycheck waiting for her at the end of each month as she sidestepped spilled drinks and dodged groping hands from drunk patrons to the beat of thrumming bass and strobing lights. Usually, Eguchi and her coworkers had her back and made it absolutely clear that any physical disrespect or harassment to the staff of any kind from the customers would result in an instant kick-out. But even with this rule in place, they couldn’t do anything about the leers and the catcalls from the rowdier ones, the bold perverts who made her skin crawl when they licked their lips and stared at Nino’s ample cleavage and toned legs. 

Working Halloween would mean going through the worst part of her job but times a hundred; the Halloween specials at the bar and the “exclusive” guest DJ would mean that The Canary would be _ packed _ with a capital “P.” It would be full of twenty- and thirty-something-year-olds who were too old to go trick-or-treating or staying in their neighborhoods for their own parties but apparently not too old to get wasted and go crazy on the dance floor. The only reason why she didn’t tell Eguchi to shove off was that he was a good boss and a good man; he offered a job to a lonely girl turned away by countless other shops and bars and never judged her for her less-than-sunny personality even though she knew there must have been complaints about the way she talked back to customers who were particularly frustrating. So when the call came, she tiredly ran her hands through her bob of curly brown hair and responded with a “yes” to Eguchi’s request that she come for this one night, with the promise of extra overtime. 

* * *

Coming home from work at five in the morning was the best and worst part. She was so tired and sore from being jostled about by drunken dancers and hurriedly squeezing her way through narrow gaps in the crowds to deliver orders in four-inch heels all night, but at least she collapsed into bed clutching a substantial check. She also thanked Eguchi for giving her the next two days off. 

In the midst of her sleep, a voice crooned out to her. _ Niii-noooo, Ninooooooo, _it sang. It grew louder and louder, to the point that she rolled over to tell off whoever was disturbing her well-earned sleep. She opened her eyes, ready to reprimand, but instead screamed when she saw Nao standing over her bed, his face inches away from hers and his long, silky hair tickling her face.

“Morning! Or late afternoon, I guess! Wow, you look like shit, but you’re finally up!” Nao cheerfully said. He deftly bent back to avoid the fist that came flying towards his face. 

“Nao, what the fuck?! What the actual fuck are you doing in my house?!” she yelped. 

He giggled. “Giving you your own Halloween party, duh! Heard you missed it because of work! So I, the genius that I am, decided that Halloween 2: Electric _ Boo _ -galloo is _ now _ , and you’re gonna wear _ this _!” He drew out a purple onesie from behind his back with a flourish. “Ta-dah!”

She narrowed her eyes at him, contemplating whether or not it was worth the energy to murder her friend right then and there. She then cast her eyes to the pajamas he was holding. It seemed loose but warm, with a hood that had two tufts sticking out from it and cartoon red eyes slanted in devilish delight and a wide grin. 

“Is that a... Gengar onesie?” Her eyes widened as she finally looked at the brown pajamas that Nao was sporting, complete with beige pom poms and bunny ears. “Are you wearing a _ Buneary onesie _?” she asked incredulously.

His lean body twirled around with the grace of a ballet dancer and struck a pose. “Got it in one!” He tossed the Gengar pajamas to her. “Now hurry up and get changed into that—and don’t take too long, everyone is out there waiting for us!”

Nino paused midway through her dressing. “Every...one_ ?” _ her voice pitched up an octave higher. _ Oh my god, _ she panicked. _ Oh my god, I still haven’t cleaned up all the fabric and sewing materials I used for my mummy costume yet _.

Nao, the insufferable fool, laughed like it was normal to have an impromptu party in someone’s house after they came off their work shift and was too tired to prepare the house for a friend coming over, let alone guests. He grabbed Nino’s hand and dragged her out the bedroom door. “Come on! I invited all our friends! That’s actually how I got into your house, you see. Did you know that Rin can pick a lock in under two minutes?”

A small group of her friends was out there in the living room of her small apartment (thank God it was small, she wouldn’t have known what to do if Nao had invited _ everyone _ everyone), pushing away furniture or stocking her tiny dining table with a colorful arrangement of snacks and junk foods. They all sported Pokemon onesies as well: there was quiet Sairai in a Rowlett onesie, dutifully arranging all the pillows and blankets in a pile in the center; sweet and shy Hanako as an Eevee, happily chatting away with stoic Rin, who nodded and rummaged around in the deep pocket of her Kangaskhan pajamas and pulled out more chips for the table. And there to the side, there was a man in yellow merrily joking about his back as he easily moved away the couch; Nino’s face heated up as she recognized his smooth, deep voice and the scruffy stubble on his ruggedly handsome face.

She didn’t know what she would die of first: the embarrassment of Kenji being _ here _ and seeing her on her childish Gengar onesie, or the comedic cuteness of seeing his towering height being squeezed into a poor Pikachu onesie. 

Upon her and Nao’s arrival to the living room, everyone paused in their tasks to greet them. Sairai and Hanako gave Nino smiles and waves while Rin looked at her with a blank stare and grunted in greeting. Kenji leaned against the couch and flashed her a brilliant grin.

“Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Enjoyed last night?”

Yep, Nino was definitely going to die of embarrassment over Kenji being here and seeing her in Pokemon sleepwear. 

* * *

Even as mad as she was earlier at Nao, Nino found herself relaxing more and more as the night went on. Nao chatted nonstop about the clubs he visited during Halloween, all the people he danced with, and all the sweets he had as Hanako braided his hair. Sairai painted Nino’s nails, occasionally brushing back her long white hair behind her ear as she concentrated on painting miniature flowers onto Nino’s fingers and toes. Kenji told them all ghost stories that had them tightly tensed and on the edge of their seats until Rin whacked his arm to stop at the first sign of Hanako trembling when he started going into detail about the gore. At some point, Rin silently pointed to the pillow pile in the center of the room, encouraging everyone to sit down with snacks and blankets while she put on a classic horror movie for them. 

Hours later, Nino woke up. She blinked several times to adjust to the darkness and the gentle blue light radiating from her TV as the DVD menu looped. Everyone else was asleep, sprawled out on the ground and snoring like Nao or huddled close to each other like Rin, Hanako, and Sairai. 

But where was Kenji?

Nino found him outside, on the balcony of her apartment. It was quite easy, she simply looked for his bright yellow clothes. He was smoking and chatting into a cellphone, his loud voice dropping to a low murmur that Nino couldn’t make out. He must have been out there for a while, judging by the few cigarette butts squashed around his feet. She kept watching him quietly from the shadows as he worked his charms on whoever he was talking. Nino wondered why Kenji wasn’t in there with the rest of them, then felt the beginnings of another blush when she asked herself why he wasn’t in there with her.

Kenji laughed into his cellphone before hanging up. He pocketed his phone and took another long drag on his cigarette as the smile dropped from his face. Nino wasn’t sure what she should do: call out to him? Retreat back into the living room? 

Kenji turned so he could look directly at Nino in the shadows. He took another long drag on his cigarette before dropping it and extinguishing it beneath his foot. “Did you need something, Nino?”

The woman in question stiffened in surprise, but the ruse was up. She stepped out of the shadows and into the dim moonlight painting her balcony and its two inhabitants in grey light. Kenji offered her a crooked smile. His eyes traveled up and down her form, but it didn’t elicit the same slimy feeling she got whenever customers at The Canary did the same. In fact, she felt shy but emboldened at the same time under his scrutiny.

“Well, well, well, was this your plan all along? Getting me alone and away from the others so you could finally have your way with me?”

She scoffed loudly while she crossed her arms. Her heart was beating a little faster in her chest. “As if, you idiot,” she said with as much anger she could inject into her words. She was disappointed to hear they didn’t have as much bite to them as she thought. 

Nino decided to change the subject. “That must have been someone important, for them to call you in the middle of the night.” She really hoped it wasn't—at least, not another girl, not another of his flings.

“Just business. Terribly boring and nothing special. At least, not as special as you,“ He lazily shrugged and gave his trademark smirk. Tipped his head back and looked at her beneath hooded eyes. Nino shivered. It was starting to feel uncomfortably hot now in her Gengar pajamas. 

They stood there in silence. Kenji was watching her with a smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. His normally warm brown eyes now looked dull. Tired. Distant. Nino didn’t realize that Kenji, of all people, could even brood. Such an expression seemed strange on him, at odds with the laughter lines around his eyes that crinkled whenever he cracked a joke or made a flirtatious quip. What was he thinking of? Or who? (_ And _ , she thought with a bitterness that surprised herself, _ would he even tell me the truth _?) 

Nino took a deep breath and gathered her courage. She moved an inch forward, then another. Before her anxiety could take over and abort her task, she slowly stepped into his space. Buried her face into his chest to avoid answering the questioning smile on his face and wrapped her arms around his giant frame. Dammit, why was she always blushing around him?

“Aww, widdle Nino wants a hug,” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” she sputtered. “It’s not that, I just—, you looked like you needed it,” she replied, feeling her face grow hotter, hoping he couldn’t feel the heat from her face through his onesie.

“Nice try, I don’t need one. Can ghosts even hug?” He laughed but still his arms enveloped her and softly squeezed. Nino closed her eyes and inhaled his scent: woodsy and earthy cologne, spicy cigarette smoke. She pressed her ear closer to his chest to hear the laughter rumble in his chest and his heart pounding like a slow metronome, the steady sound of it like a hypnotic lullaby. _ I’m so comfortable with him. Why is that? _ she thought. She wanted to stay there forever, wrapped up in the safety of his arms.

“Come on, let’s go inside. It’s way too cold out here,” Kenji finally said.

But to Nino, it was warm with him. And that was all she needed now. And a small part of her hoped that it was what Kenji wanted as well.


End file.
